The Missing Piece
by Margaret R. O'Halloran
Summary: An AU Voyager/SVU smutfic. Olivia ends up on Voyager because reasons, Janeway is immediately smitten. PWP, femmeslash. It switches from 3rd person (Janeway's POV) to 1st person (Janeway's POV) after the prologue. I don't think either woman would just accept O showing up. I was in a migraine fog and had this naughty idea. I wrote it because someone on Tumblr encouraged me to. R&R.
1. Prologue & The Turbolift

**PROLOGUE**

"Any plans tonight, Captain?" Chakotay asked, a grin on his lips.

"Actually, Commander, I do," Janeway replied, leaning over in her command chair.

The smile faded slightly from his face.

"I have a date," she continued, a mischievous light in her eyes, "with Dostoevsky."

Chakotay seemed relieved, the dimples reclaiming his cheeks.

The ship shuddered slightly and a brunette wavered into view in front of them, mid-sentence.

"- - to get the paperwor- -" She stopped, her hand going to the holster on her hip.

"Security to the bridge, intruder alert."

The lights dimmed and Kathryn stood, her heart fluttering. This woman was breathtaking. Statuesque, a strong form, her brown eyes filled with fire and a passion for life. The red lighting brought out the russet shade in her hair.

"Who are you?" the brunette demanded, glancing around the bridge.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship _Voyager. _We're explorers."

"Captain," Tom called.

Kathryn glanced at him.

"She's wearing 21st Century clothing. That's a Glock 19 in her holster, the kind of gun that fires bullets."

An aroused shiver ran up Kathryn's spine.

_Nothing like a woman with a gun_, she thought.

"Where am I?" the woman asked, and Janeway could tell this was a woman used to being in charge.

"You're on a starship," Kathryn soothed, her hands palm out in front of her, "the starship _Voyager, _in the 24th century_._"

"Twenty..." The brunette's hand stilled, then stiffened. "You kidnapped me."

"No," Kathryn countered firmly. "No, I assure you, we didn't kidnap you." She was looking forward to debates in her quarters, preferably in the nude.

The brunette looked around again, saw the security team swoop in with their compression rifles. She shifted then, bringing her hands to rest by her head. She locked eyes with Kathryn, those brown eyes burning.

"Detective Benson, Special Victims Unit."

* * *

**T**HE **T**URBOLIFT

I couldn't have lasted any longer. I'm surprised I held out as long as I did. We stepped into the turbolift and my baser instincts took over.

"Computer, halt turbolift."

She stared at me, her chest heaving, and I knew in that moment she felt the same, that her desire was on the verge of consuming her in a ball of flame. If she held out any longer, all that would remain would be smoldering ash and smoke.

She crossed the small space with a single step and took my lips with her own, her hands in my hair unfastening the clip that held it in place. She fanned it out around my shoulders as we kissed and when she drew away, I knew my cheeks were as flushed as hers. She stepped back, but I wasn't ready to let her go just yet. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer again for another toe-curling heart-stopping kiss. She reached behind me with her free hand and pulled me flush against her. I was falling away from _Voyager_, into the depths of her and I didn't care. She stepped away again, far enough to make her point, and shed her jacket.

_Oh, my God. _ My heart was in my throat, all thought wrapped up in one single mantra: _this is what I've been missing!_

Not since my Academy days had I felt this for a woman. Finally I knew why Justin, Mark, all the men in my life had felt off.

Her shirt fell to the floor of the 'lift, her sunkissed skin bare, an erotic contrast to the utilitarian bulkheads. She stepped closer again, her hands at my waist, sliding over my hips repeatedly. Her fingers snuck under the waistband at my belly then retreated.

"Detective..." It escaped me, managed to get away from me before I could catch it.

"Olivia," she corrected.

Even her name was erotic, tickled my lips and tongue. The groan that fell from me seemed to spur her on. Her movements became more urgent. She growled in frustration. I put my hands over hers.  
"Let me," I murmured, kissed her neck. I made short work of the jacket and longsleeved shirt, threw them to the floor where they ensnared her jacket and shirt in a sensual dance. Muscles rippled in her flat stomach, her pupils dilated. I unfastened my pants and let them slide down over my thighs, past my knees. Then she grabbed me, captured my mouth in a bone-melting invasion, spun me around and pressed me against the bulkhead, my pants around my ankles. Her lips tickled my ear, the heat in her core radiating against my backside. With a tug, the Starfleet issue panties landed at my feet, my boots forced me to lean my weight on palms against the bulkhead.

"I'm going to make you moan my name."

_I don't doubt that for a second._

Her hand came down against my bare behind with a crack. I let out a squeak followed closely by a mew.

Her lithe fingers danced over my thighs, a trail of fire behind them, until she reached my dripping center. She slipped two slender digits inside me, nipped my back through the grey tank.

"How long have you been ready for me?" she asked, her voice husky, her fingers slowly leaving me.

"Ever since you appeared on the bridge. Hell, I thought of kneeling you in front of me and letting you eat to your heart's content."

She moaned, her breath rippling my tank. Those magical digits thrust up into me once more, withdrew just as quickly only to be buried again.

"Kathryn, I'm going to make you scream. The whole ship will hear you, their perfectly poised captain, as you lose yourself to me."

Those fingers were joined by a third, my breath coming in gasps. My hair tickled my shoulders with every pant, my scent now mingled with hers. I turned my head, tried to look at her and the sight out of the corner of my eye made me shudder with pleasure, sending a wave of moisture over her hand. She had her own pants undone, her free hand slick with her own moisture, her mouth slightly open.

"Olivia..." She was right, and I knew she would be. It was such a delicious name. "Oh, Olivia."

I was moaning with each thrust, and then she stopped, her fingers stilled within me. I wriggled my hips, trying to urge her on, but she wasn't having it.

"Not until you touch yourself, Captain." She winked at me.

I'd certainly indulged in my quarters, on nights when I couldn't sleep, but never in front of a lover before, and certainly not in front of someone I'd known only for a few hours. I was speechless.

"Let me see you, Kathryn... I want to see you throw your head back in pleasure," she whispered.

I was hesitant. I reached down, not certain that I was going to enjoy it, but if it brought her closer to the edge, then I'd do this all day long.

With the first brush of my fingertip against my swollen bud, I was keening.

"Yes, Kathryn. Oh, Captain my Captain."

Those magical fingers started up again and I was lost to the world. All I knew in the multiverse were those three fingers and my own. I let my head fall back and I could hear her moans harmonize with mine. I was on the edge, and then she stopped again. I righted my head and met her burning gaze, her hand still strumming its own heady song for her. I understood now. I continued stroking myself, and the most beautiful sound I have ever heard fell from her lips.

"Ka-thry-n!"

She bucked her hips, her lashes fluttering, sweat rolling between her breasts. The sight of her in such abandon was all I needed. I was white hot and soaring, shattered, exploding in all directions. My knees gave, I stumbled, landed on the floor beside her, our clothing offering little padding beneath me.

My breathing slowed. Feathers brushed my hair away from my face, kissed me tenderly. I opened my eyes slowly, and her smile coaxed me from that place between sleep and reality.

"You were right," I rasped.

"About?"

I chuckled.

"I imagine the entire ship heard me."

Her smile grew.

"I wouldn't bet on it."

I drew back slightly in surprise.

"No?"

Olivia shook her head, reddening.

"But I know they heard me."


	2. The Desk

**T**HE** D**ESK

"...and I was thinking that we could visit the holodeck, maybe take a sail on Lake George."  
He is ever persistent. The doors to my ready room hiss shut behind us and I make my way to my desk.  
"Chakotay, it's just not a good time. I have a lot of paperwork to do, Olivia still has to get acclimated," I say, feeling him tense behind me, "and reviews are coming up in less than a week." I sit in my desk chair.

"Right," he replies, visibly hurt. "The duty rosters for the next few weeks." He hands me a PADD.

"Thank you. I'll look them over once I ahh! Haa!" Something bit me. I look under my desk, the culprit's brown eyes glinting in the shadows.

Chakotay takes a step forward just as Olivia runs her toned hand up my thigh.

"No!" They both stop. I clear my throat. "I'll look them over once I finish going over B'Elanna's re- _**port!**_" I slap my palm on the desktop. Those dainty fingers are caressing, stroking me through my pants, not to be deterred this time. "Dismissed!" It comes out as a yelp. He furrows his brow, clenches his jaw, nods, and finally leaves.

I slide my chair back, reach under the desk for her only to have her take my index finger in her mouth, suckling it gently, humming.

"Oh..." my breath catches when I take in what she's wearing: a black satin bra and panty set. She lets my finger go, crawls out from under the desk and kneels in front of the chair.

"It's not the bridge, but..." She trails off, unfastens my pants, her intention clear. I still her hands and stand, pulling her up with me. She's playing coy. I like coy.

I circle her, taking in her form. Barefoot, she is much closer to my height. My fingers find the spot just below the swell of her buttock, where it meets the thigh, eliciting a sigh from her. She stands perfectly still, hands at her sides. She wants me to take her. I don't need any more invitation. One hand on the back of her neck, I bend her over my desk roughly. She gasps, sighs, shudders. I kick her feet apart, rake my nails down her back and bring my hand down on her perfect rear. She squeaks. I wonder if I've gone too far, then I notice her sultry smile, the heat coming from her core.  
"You could have gotten me into very big trouble," I growl. "A court martial, time in the brig, mutiny..." I slap her backside again. She's panting now. Slipping my fingers under the fabric over her reddened cheek, I can feel her toned flank rippling, smell her arousal. She's magnificent.

"What do you think I should do with you?" I ask, my hand leaving the back of her neck to gather her long hair. "Hmm?"

"Whatever you want, Captain."

Oh, God. Those words in that voice... it's enough to make a woman go mad. I manage to stifle a groan, maintain control.

"Really." I can hear how much deeper my voice is getting, the only tell of my own state. I pull back on her hair a bit, lifting her cheek off the desktop and bring my lips to her ear. "I'm going to take you over my desk. And when I'm finished..." I pause, slap her behind again. "You won't be able to walk."

She moans, presses her palms flat against the desk.

I let her hair go, yank the panties down to her knees, step back to admire the view. She's more than ready, her lower lips swollen and dripping. A fleeting thought runs across my mind: Anyone could walk through that door and see us this way, Olivia exposed and at my mercy, their captain behind her, flushed and panting. It only serves to increase my arousal. I can't keep my hands off her much longer.

She moans again, pinches her nipples and sighs, "Captain..."

It is my undoing. With three fingers I thrust into her, her hips buck and she presses her backside to me.

"Say it," I command, refusing to give her what she wants until she follows orders.

She shakes her head.  
I bring my hand down on her backside again, make her cry out.

"Say it."

She won't.

"No?" I grab a handful of her hair, pull, and push my fingers deeper.

"Oh! Captain, please..." She's panting, bucking her hips, trying to get me to move in and out of her. I pull a little harder.

"Say it, Olivia."

It leaves her in a throaty groan, a plea.

"Fuck me."

I release her hair, draw my fingers back to the tip, then bury them inside her, over and over, her sex quivering around them like my heartstrings.

She bites down on her forearm, attempting to quiet the sounds that escape her. One long moment stretches between us, caught in that instant between bliss and insanity, and she clenches around my fingers, wails my name.

I continue to stroke her, building her up again, but my turn as the dominant is over. She straightens, whirls round and gets my pants around my waist, sits me in my chair and kneels in front of me. Moving my panties aside, she pulls my hips to the edge of the seat so that I am barely perched and laves my sex with her pink tongue. I hiss, thread my hands in her hair, and she proves yet again that the tongue is, in fact, a very powerful muscle. My head rolls back, my eyes slip closed, and I melt in her mouth.  
"Oh, G- god..."

I can feel her smiling, her tongue dancing in my heat, making contented noises and holding my legs open with one hand on the inside of my right thigh.

"L- livia... Oh...!"

Her other hand has found my clit, the tip of her finger gently grazing it as though she were polishing a pearl. I'm moaning, my fingers tightening their hold on her curls. She takes her hand from my thigh and arches two fingers up inside me, closes her sculpted lips over my bundle of nerves and I lift my head to meet her eyes. And then she does it. Destroys me, with just one flick of her tongue. My vision blacks out, my body tenses, and I'm at the epicenter of a warp core detonation. Fireworks shatter the darkness, and she is still going. Her tongue is still on me, driving me higher still, and I don't think I'll survive another climax. She adds a third finger and I'm trying to pull her head up by her hair. She lifts her mouth from me and she has a "cat got the cream" grin painted all over her face. She's still pumping me, I'm breaking all over again, and she whispers one word.

"Kathryn..."

* * *

We're on the couch now, her head on my chest. Fingers laced together with those of her right hand, I'm trying to remember the last time I felt this safe. It's been years.

"Kathryn," she calls, her voice like honey.

"Mm?"

"What would you have done..." She trails off again, sits up. There's a gleam in her eye, like the one she had under my desk. I brace myself.

"If?"

"... if I'd pulled out a strap-on?"


End file.
